


Be My Once In A Lifetime

by smoulderandbraids



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dirty Talk, Epistolary, Friends to Lovers, Light Pining, M/M, Pen Pals, The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known, They meet earlier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:33:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21798403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smoulderandbraids/pseuds/smoulderandbraids
Summary: If pressed, David would say he’s absolutely too mature to have a pen pal. But he and Patrick message nearly every day. It’s nice to be able to tell this practically-a-stranger the stupid details of his life, little successes and disappointments and amusing moments with no fear that Patrick’s going to turn it around and use whatever he says against him as soon as it’s convenient. It’s refreshing to be able to be honest and not to have to worry about the possible fallout.ORDavid and Patrick meet by chance one night, a few years ahead of schedule. They stay in touch and fall in love.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 58
Kudos: 244
Collections: Schitt's Creek Open Fic Night 2.0





	Be My Once In A Lifetime

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bellafarella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellafarella/gifts).



> I kind of deviated from the prompt so bellafarella I hope you still enjoy it!
> 
> A million thanks and gold stars to my beta [redacted] who chatficced a bunch of this with me, let me steal some direct lines, fixed my commas, and read this over far too late at night like a champ.
> 
> Title from Lana Del Rey's "Love Song" (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Or1FCriOK8M)

David frowns, looking down at his phone as though risking forehead wrinkles will change the betrayal and despair contained in the text message chain. He considers the artfully bad selfie of Alexis on a gorgeous beach. He’d say it looks nice, except the very handsome and inappropriately rumpled man kissing her on the cheek in the photo is the very handsome man that David basically came to Montreal just to meet up with in this bar tonight. No one called it a date, technically, but David thinks it was heavily implied that it was a date, so it stings more than the usual rejection. A message pops up below the photo:

_What was I gonna say? No Pierre, don’t come to Barbados with me? You know my therapist told me to say yes to new opportunities, David_

_That was a tarot reader on the SUBWAY,_ David types back, angry and exhausted and some small part of him is relieved that Alexis is somewhere safe, and a bigger part of him is frustrated at himself for being mad and stupid to boot, because of course this was going to happen. Maybe not the Alexis part, but David should have known better than to expect things to work out with Pierre. Never mind that they’ve been consistently not-dating for six weeks and David rescheduled all his Montreal gallery appointments to make tonight work. 

It’s embarrassing that his baby sister is now 2 for 3 in her attempts to steal his boyfriends. If anything he should be stealing hers. 

David looks around the bar, trying to decide what to do next. Clearly he’s not going to be spending the evening in a 5 star hotel suite with a naked model-slash-consultant-slash-venture capitalist and an ice bucket of champagne. But he does have those gallery meetings tomorrow and there’s some pieces he thinks might actually have been worth the trip. The bar Pierre picked is kind of a dive, not David’s usual scene at all. The lighting is dim and all the dark wood furniture looks at least 50 years old, and there’s no cohesive theme to speak of. It’s decently populated for a Tuesday night, but no one is catching David’s eye. 

He looks at the bar taps conveniently in front of him and at the menu behind the bar. He’s hungry, and if he’s not going to be fucking Pierre tonight, he can absolutely drown his sorrows in some poutine. He doesn’t see poutine on the menu though, which is so incorrect it’s insulting. Nothing on the menu sounds appealing. He stares at it, increasingly disheartened. 

“You definitely shouldn’t get the smashed nachos, if you were wondering” a voice to his right says. David looks over. His menu advice-giver is a guy, maybe (definitely) a little younger than David, cute in a nondescript kind of way. 

“Why, what’s wrong with them?” David can only imagine. 

The guy smiles at him, and ducks his head a little, like the smashed nachos are some great inside joke that locals play on unsuspecting, romantically-challenged patrons. 

“They’re microwaved, for starters,” the guy says. “Do I need to go on?”

“Definitely not,” David says, doing his best not to physically recoil. “Thanks…” He trails off. 

“Patrick.” The guys extends his hand like they’re in a boardroom, giving David an unwelcome flashback of that time he met Pierre at his office and did several ill-advised activities. He takes Patrick’s hand and shakes it anyways, quick and casual and warmer than David expected as he introduces himself. 

“So what do you recommend? What are my non-microwaved options?”

“Beer,” Patrick says. “Um, other than that I guess the grilled cheese is decent. They get the bread from the bakery next door.”

“A miracle,” David says, and catches the bartender’s eye to order. 

Patrick chimes in and gets the same sandwich, so David figures he must have been telling the truth. If anything can improve this night, molten cheese and actually good grilled bread could do it. 

They move to a small, close booth when the sandwiches come, because David has always felt weird eating at a bar when bars are for drinking, and he’s never going to change his mind on this. The first bite is salty, crisp, rich perfection and David is instantly soothed, can feel himself unwinding a little from the potential downward spiral Patrick so kindly interrupted with his suggestions of cheese and a smile that makes David want to listen to him. 

“So what brought you here anyways?” Patrick asks, not rudely, but like he’s actually curious. “I get the sense this isn’t your usual scene.”

“Well my sister just stole my boyfriend,” David says, wrinkling his nose. “Ex-boyfriend, I guess.”

“That’s rough,” Patrick says. “No wonder you were glaring at your phone. He must have been really stupid to pull a stunt like that.” 

“He’s definitely stupid,” David says, because Pierre is naturally model hot and has good connections, and David doesn’t think he’s ever had to genuinely try to get what he wants. “But he’s too stupid to know any better, so I really blame my sister.”

“Good thing I found you when I did,” Patrick says. “You might have done something drastic like ordering the smashed nachos or trying to rebound with the bartender.”

“Would that be drastic? Who would you suggest I rebound with instead?” The bartender is a total lumberjack type, beard and red plaid shirt and definitely a bro. David’s had worse. 

Patrick scans the room covertly, not obvious enough that anyone would know. “The girl by the windows is cute. Or that guy by the jukebox.” 

David represses a shudder because of course this dumb bar has a jukebox like it’s 1882 or something. “Sure, but they aren’t really doing it for me. And you don’t look like rebound material,” David says, eyeing this unassuming, possibly-an-undergrad near stranger with the discernment he's acquired from the circus that is the bar scene.

“No? How do I look?” He smiles as he says it, but not in a mean way. More like there’s some joke David isn’t in on, like Patrick is having fun talking to him, enjoying it. His eyes drop to David’s mouth for a second, quick but unmistakable, and David thinks fuck, why not. 

“I don’t know if I should say,” David replies, purposefully coy, fiddling with his drink and looking down at it, letting a similar smile play on his lips.

“Please do,” he says, still sounding too amused and playful, which is...nice. David’s not used to that. 

“Yeah?” David says, looking up at Patrick from under his lashes. Patrick’s meeting his eyes steadily, and he gives a little nod that's cuter than it has any right to be. 

“You look sweet,” David says. “Like you call your mom every day and shouldn’t be talking to strangers in bars.”

“Actually, I call my mom every other day,” Patrick quips back. “And somehow I don’t think you’re an axe murderer or whatever. Or your sister probably wouldn’t have stolen your boyfriend.”

“So you’re sweet _and_ clever,” David says. “What else do you do?”

Patrick makes a face. “Um, I just started grad school. For business. I just moved here.”

“For business,” David echoes, trying not to tease, “I wouldn’t have guessed. Are you liking it?”

Patrick makes another face, so honest it’s kind of fascinating for David. “The classes seem good, and I like my apartment and the city, but I haven’t met anyone in the program yet that doesn’t seem like an overgrown frat bro, so.”

“Mmmm, so they all wear suits to 9am classes and play lacrosse and get blackout drunk every weekend and think beer pong is the height of entertainment?”

Patrick smiles a little. “How did you know?”

“Lucky guess,” David says. “So were you expecting something different?”

Patrick’s playing with the label on his beer now, like this is something he’s been trying to work out for himself.

“I don’t know, I thought people might be more focused. I picked the program here because I wanted a change and nothing seems that different so far.”

“A change from what?” David asks, gently. He doesn’t want to pry, but he’s curious, can relate to wanting things to feel different, to not being able to outrun himself. 

Patrick sighs. “I’ve been dating the same girl since we were maybe 15, and she’s great, but I just feel like I need some space for myself? And when I told her I was applying to grad programs she was on board with it until I decided to accept the offer here. It’s a drive, and she didn’t like me moving that far away.”

“That’s a lot,” David says, taking a drink. “I wouldn’t know where to start with that, I don’t have the best luck with relationships. Obviously.”

“It’ll work out one way or another,” Patrick says, a little too grim, not hopeful. “So I guess I’m kind of on the rebound too.” He takes a sip of his beer, and David watches him carefully. He’s had plenty of straight guys try to flirt with him over the years, but he’s not 100% sure if that’s what’s happening here. If Patrick even knows what’s happening here. He might just be one of those people who’s friendly to everyone. 

“So what do you do?” Patrick asks him. “Since you’re not an axe murderer.”

David tells him about his gallery, about New York, about how he likes coming to Montreal to scout pieces and look for emerging artists. He tells him about the piece he’s going to see tomorrow and why he’s excited about it. 

“So this weekend isn’t a total loss,” he says, taking a sip of his drink.

“I hope not.” Patrick says. It sounds more intimate than it has any right to and puts all sorts of thoughts in David’s head. 

They talk for a while longer, until the bartender comes around to tell the small assortment of patrons that the kitchen is closing in ten. David watches the face Patrick makes at the bartender’s use of the word kitchen to describe wherever the grilled cheeses were made and is unreasonably, absolutely charmed. 

“I should probably head out,” David says, drawing out a pause, an implied but totally deniable invitation. Patrick jumps in almost too quickly to offer to walk him there. David’s hotel isn’t far, and it’s a pretty ideal direction for this night. 

Patrick starts to get out his wallet, but David stops him. It’s cute that he tried. David hasn’t had anyone offer to pick up a tab in years.

The night air is crisp and nicer than David expected. Montreal is fresh in a way New York isn’t. Nice to visit, but way too small for David to ever live there. 

They talk about places in the city as they walk. One of the first things Patrick did after moving was trek up Mont Royal and he says the view was more than worth it, but David has serious doubts. 

It doesn’t take long to walk to David’s hotel, but Patrick’s hand brushes his twice accidentally on the way. 

“This is me,” David says, stopping on the sidewalk near the hotel entrance and turning to face Patrick. 

“Oh. Okay, this was fun.” 

Patrick’s standing close to him. Maybe too close, and he didn’t just say goodbye and leave, which he could have done if he was just walking David home to be polite. 

“I probably shouldn’t invite you up,” David says, and regrets it instantly. 

“Probably not.” Patrick’s smiling and there’s something happening behind his eyes that David can’t quite figure out. He wants to get closer to try and see, and then it’s too easy to lean in and kiss him, soft and tender with a hand on the back of his neck, the way David likes to be kissed himself. Patrick opens up for him effortlessly, and his hands are finding David’s waist and David doesn’t know how long they kiss for, other than longer than they probably should. 

It’s nothing like kissing Pierre. 

David steps back eventually, already regretting the loss of contact, acutely aware of the missing warmth of Patrick’s hands on his sides. 

“You should look me up,” is what Patrick says, his eyes meeting David’s, all huge and almost innocent in a way David loves and sort of hates. “My last name is Brewer. If you’re in town again for the gallery or whatever, you should, um. Let me know.”

“Sure,” David says. “Yeah, I can---yeah. Goodnight?”

“Goodnight, David,” Patrick says, raising a hand to wave as he turns to walk away, looking all sweet again. It’s twice as devastating now that David knows how soft his lips are, that he kisses like some kind of angel that makes David stupid and hopeful and full of want for something he’s never going to get. 

_________________________________________________________________________

David waits until he’s safely home in New York a few days later before he gives in to googling Patrick. There’s a LinkedIn page that David isn’t going to create an account to see and more interestingly, a Facebook account. The profile picture is nice, Patrick in some sort of sportsball uniform, clearly cropped from a larger group shot.

He sends the friend request, figures he better include a message in case Patrick doesn’t get who “David Lastname” is. Maybe Patrick meets strange men in bars all the time. His Facebook inbox could be a mess, David doesn’t know. He bets it isn’t, though. Patrick seemed too regimented for that kind of chaos. 

Sept 30, 2011, 6:24pm

_Hi Patrick,_

_I had a great time with you at the bar the other night. My actual last name is Rose, but my sister had just enough notoriety as a teen model that I can’t use it on here if I don’t want to be inundated by randoms._

_David_

He tells himself it doesn’t matter if Patrick writes back to him. David’s been flaked on loads of times, and technically it’s barely even flaking if it’s over the internet. Never mind that Patrick explicitly asked him to reach out and seemed genuinely interested in David like, as a person. David wants him to write back more than he wants to admit. 

Sept 30, 2011, 8:07pm

_Hey David, it was great meeting you the other night, glad we ran into each other. Are you back in New York?_

David can feel himself smiling at his phone like an absolute idiot and schools his face, as if anyone in his empty apartment is going to see it. He types out a response, tells Patrick about how his flight was delayed and the piece he saw at the gallery was perfect. He asks about Patrick’s midterm group project presentation, and if he did, in fact, have to actively murder any of his group members to get them to pull their weight like he’d feared. 

Patrick writes back again a few hours later, assuring David that no, he won’t have to write him letters in prison and he’s still an innocent man (for now). 

If pressed, David would say he’s absolutely too mature to have a pen pal. But he and Patrick message nearly every day. Patrick is thoughtful and reasonable and not afraid to tease David, and David doesn't know what’s wrong with him that he actually likes it. It’s nice to be able to tell this practically-a-stranger the stupid details of his life, little successes and disappointments and amusing moments with no fear that Patrick’s going to turn it around and use whatever he says against him as soon as it’s convenient. It’s refreshing to be able to be honest and not to have to worry about the possible fallout. He thinks Patrick likes having David as a space to vent to as well, someone who cares enough to listen, but isn’t involved enough to potentially make things awkward.

It doesn’t take long at all until David’s told him more about himself than anyone else knows. He thinks he’s starting to get to know Patrick better too. David’s not used to social media making him feel good and whole and positive. He thinks he’d better not get too used to it. 

* * *

April 29, 2012, 10:36pm

_So Rachel and I got back together_

_I think it’s gonna be better this time though_

_We talked about a lot of stuff and I think we both grew up some this year_

David really doesn’t know how to respond to that. It’s not like he and Patrick have been doing or talking about anything romantic, which is fine. David’s never really bought into long-distance relationships, not in the least because half of Alexis’ have required intervention by the CIA. Maybe they seem like less of a bad idea to people without that particular touchstone. 

From what he’s told David, Patrick’s had a pretty good year, done really well in his program and not committed bodily harm to any overgrown frat boys. David knows he has an internship lined up for the summer that he’s excited about. Patrick hasn’t seemed sad or lonely, but he has been messaging David basically everyday, so maybe he actually is. Or maybe Patrick’s just happy and thinks being with Rachel again is something that will contribute to that happiness.

April 29, 2012, 11:13pm

_That’s cool_

Is what David types back, before promptly changing the subject. 

* * *

  
  


July 15, 2013, 1:46pm

_Patrick_

_Patrick_

_Patrick_

_I’m_

_I just_

_Asdfghuji;ko’l;_

_Patrick my parents somehow lost all our money through their gross business manager and the government came and took all our stuff and now we’re fucking moving to some fucking backwater hick ontario town my dad bought as a joke when i was 8 and i’m going to have a heart attack and freeze to death in the winter_

_Expect my next letter to be delivered by the coyotes that devoured my corpse_

July 15, 2013, 2:19pm

_That sounds really awful, I’m so sorry. I hope they catch the guy_

_Please don’t freeze?_

July 15, 2013, 2:21pm

_I’m going to be frozen, like my fucking bank account_

July 15, 2013, 2:29pm

_Let me know if there’s anything I can do_

It’s sweet of Patrick to say, truly. There’s nothing he can do, of course, and David knows he just graduated with his MBA and moved back home to Rachel and a promising job at a company he can grow with. David’s problems aren’t his problems and that’s a good thing. 

July 23rd, 2013, 11:42am

_Hey_

_Sorry I blanked on you for a minute_

_I’m in hell, smalltown ontario_

_I know you’re from a small town but trust me, I mean SMALL and also HELL_

_But I think I made a friend_

_She refuses to give me any extra towels even though that is in fact part of her job_

July 23rd, 2013, 11:48am

_I’m sure you’ll convince her with your sparkling personality_

_I’m glad you’re okay. Mostly okay, whatever. Not devoured by coyotes_

July 23rd, 2013, 11:50am

_Not yet!_

It’s the most David’s heard from any of his friends in a week. 

* * *

April 7, 2015, 7:09am

_So I’m at a gas station like an hour out of town_

_I left Rachel, for good this time_

_It feels terrible and I don’t know what to do but I’m not going back_

_There wasn’t even like one thing I just couldn’t_

_I don’t know_

_I’m just going to keep driving and see where I end up_

April 7, 2015, 10:04am

_Look after yourself please_

_You have to do what’s best for you, fuck whatever anyone else says_

* * *

Patrick doesn’t write back. It’s fine because Patrick is busy and has a life and clearly is going through something, but it’s also not fine at all because it means David worries about him. It is deeply uncool of Patrick to make David worry about him. David’s kind of mad at him for it. Patrick is a remarkably good friend, in all the classic, upstanding ways that Stevie isn’t, even though David loves her, as a friend, fiercely. Silence isn’t like him. 

It sucks extra because it makes David think about how he’d never know if something actually happened to Patrick. If he was in a car accident or moved to Siberia or something, or just decided not to be friends with David anymore. None of those options make sense, but David worries anyways. It’s the kind of worry he’d usually talk to Patrick about, but obviously that’s not an option.

* * *

April 21, 2015, 8:14am

_Hi David_

_You’re probably mad at me for disappearing and you have every right to be but I’m okay and everything’s fine_

_I really needed some space from everything and I just couldn’t handle social media in any form whatsoever_

_I have like 16 messages on here from people I really need to not talk to right now_

_But I’m sorry for keeping you in the dark, that wasn’t okay_

_I bounced around a little but I moved to a new town and I’m kind of settled now, working and living not in a motel (sorry) and things are feeling a little less raw_

_I hope you’re okay too and the coyotes didn’t get you._

April 21, 2015, 10:55am

_You scared me a little_

_But I’m proud of you, it’s a lot to move your whole life like that_

April 21, 2015, 10:57am

_I figured you’d get that part, yeah_

_Sorry_

David reads this message almost immediately after Patrick sends it. He's about to type back, but his thumbs pause over his phone. He feels like he should say something to acknowledge the apology, but what? He's not sure if he should offer to be there to talk some more. That's a thing friends do. If it were Stevie, she would just say, _God no, David_ . And Alexis would say, _Ew, David_. And Twyla would tell him about how her third cousin's removal from varsity cheer led to her eventual conviction for sugar smuggling. And that would be the end of it. But David doesn't know if Patrick wants that. So his thumbs hover over the keyboard while the screen goes dark.

The notification alert buzzes again, and David reflexively reads it, anxious that he's taken too long to respond.

April 21, 2015, 11:14am

_So tell me again about that time you nearly did a kegstand in the woods. I think I need some pointers since it's been a minute since I did any fancy party tricks to meet new people._

David sighs with something he'll choose to identify as relief, and from there it's easy to fall into their normal chat patterns

* * *

June 4th, 2015

David is rushing, trying not to be late to his business meeting with Ray. He’s won the lease on the general store, and he knows what he wants to do with it, but he doesn't know the first thing about how to apply for a business license or why it’s even necessary. Being late probably won’t make this exchange with Ray go any quicker or with fewer overly personal anecdotes. 

He shouldn’t have bothered, apparently. Ray doesn’t seem to have any idea that he was coming, even though David booked the appointment with him directly. He hands David a ticket, and when David looks up, it’s a shock. Patrick’s there in front of him, in tight jeans and a button up instead of a hoodie, his hair so criminally short there’s none of the curls that David remembers. He goes to hand Patrick the ticket and finds himself pulled into a hug instead. It’s friendly and quick enough that David doesn’t know if Ray even caught it, busy taking photos and giving contradictory cues to the couple being photographed. 

“You’re David Rose,” Patrick says. “You’re the David Rose that bought the general store.” He looks a little stunned, which is unfair because he knew, clearly, that David was coming in today, and David had no fucking idea at all.

“You live here and you saw I was coming in today, and you didn’t tell me?” David says, half question and half accusation. “You saw my name on the schedule or whatever and I thought I was meeting Ray today? How long have you been---” David gestures at the office/photography studio around them, hoping Patrick will understand. 

Patrick sits at a desk, gestures for David to sit as well. 

“Um, six weeks, I guess? And I didn’t know. You never told me where you lived. I had no reason to think it was you.”

“Oh my god,” David breathes. “You didn’t remember my last name. I don’t know whether to laugh or be insulted.”

Patrick’s turning a little pink, like he thinks he should’ve known. It looks good on him. Good enough that David wants to give him something better to blush about. 

It’s not just the clothes or the hair, David thinks, letting himself look Patrick over. He looks like he’s grown into himself since Montreal, like David would mistake him for a TA now rather than an undergrad. 

“I just think of you as David,” he says. “But yeah, I guess I should have caught that one.”

The way Patrick says his name is fond and completely disarming. So disarming that David blanks completely, when Patrick asks him about his business plan. 

“So it’s a general store,” David says, “but also a very specific store.”

The conversation from there is a disaster. David feels hot all over, tongue-tied, unable to focus on anything but how Patrick’s looking at him, amused and frankly very unprofessional. It’s a very long five minutes, and David’s relieved when Patrick puts down his pen and pulls out a card instead. 

“Okay David, I’m not super sure what you’re getting at here. I know this was kind of a surprise today, so here’s my card and you can call me when you have a clearer idea of your business.” 

He hands the card to David and stands, moving to walk David out, like they’re only going to spend five minutes together after four years of talking almost every day. Patrick pauses in the doorway, looking down like he’s trying to figure out how to say goodbye. 

“It was really nice to see you,” David says, desperate to cut the tension and wanting Patrick to know. He’s relieved when Patrick pulls him into another hug, still quick and friendly, but reassuring and definitely unprofessional. 

“Yeah,” Patrick says, watching David’s face like he’s searching for something. “Call me.”

“Sure,” David says, and wonders what Patrick would do if he kissed him.

“Or feel free to send me a message.” 

* * *

The walk back to the ex-general store he’s now terrifyingly responsible for seems longer than usual. David’s mind is racing. He tries to collect his thoughts, tries to think about his business plan. He gets a coffee and an emotional support cookie from the cafe and sits in the empty, empty store, contemplating if he’s insane to be doing this at all and chasing his unruly thoughts in circles. 

He jumps when his phone buzzes, checks it and sees a facebook notification from Patrick. 

June 4th, 2015, 11:03am

_It was great seeing you today._

_I couldn’t believe it when you walked in_

David’s trying to narrow down his thoughts to a response when he sees the notification in the chat window that Patrick is typing.

_You looked just as gorgeous as you did at that bar_

David swears, loud in the empty store and closes his eyes for a second. Or several seconds. The message is still there when he opens them, unmistakable text in black and white, there to haunt him forever. He takes a sip of his coffee, and then another, and eats the entire cookie the size of his face. The message is still there when he finishes and pulls out Patrick’s card and leaves the first voicemail. If Patrick’s going to just say shit like that to him, David better tell him all about his business plan first, before whatever this is wrecks him completely. 

He’s not going to stay looking as allegedly gorgeous as he did in that bar if he can’t keep himself in eye cream. 

* * *

June 7th, 2015

“So, like, what’s up with you and Patrick?” Alexis asks, too casual and bubbly. David’s instantly on guard. He’s trying to set up displays for the apothecary and she is sitting on his soon-to-be counter quite uselessly, actually filing her nails. David knows the glass nail files are good, they don’t need testing, thankssoverymuch. 

“Nothing’s up with me and Patrick,” he says. “We’re friends, I know him from school, and he wants to help out with the business.” 

“Really?” Alexis says, tossing her hair gleefully and examining her already perfect nails. “Because Twyla says that Ray says you two were very touchy with each other the other day, and you keep ordering tea to-go with your coffee. And Ted says you two looked pretty cozy in here yesterday.” 

“Because we’re _friends_ ,” David says, enunciating to make a point. “You may not know this, but friends are nice to each other and enjoy each other's company.”

Alexis grins at him sunnily, and David braces for the impact. “So are you and Patrick _enjoying_ each other’s company?”

“You’re disgusting.” David says, and drops a box of cat hair scarves in her lap. “Go sort these by colour or I’m confiscating your lip balm.”

* * *

June 12th, 2015

“You mean you’re not fucking?” Stevie sounds outraged, almost dropping her beer on the already stained and derelict bar. 

“No, I told you, we’re just friends.” David speaks purposely slowly. Not that he thinks he’d slur it, only two beers in, but Stevie seems to need some help understanding the concept. Like everybody else in this town, apparently. “And no, not like you and I were friends that time. Normal friends.”

“I don’t believe it,” Stevie says, shaking her head in bewilderment. “I know I haven’t met him but he’s like, all over you. Roland told me all about seeing you guys at the cafe.” 

“We were talking.” David says. “About the business.”

“Alexis says he’s at the store with you, like every day.” Stevie says, widening her eyes like this is a reasonable argument. “And he put his hand on your hip to pass by you at the counter.” 

“He’s at the store a lot because he’s investing in the business.” David explains for what feels like the thirtieth time. “And you’re all a bunch of perverts.”

“I know you are but what am I?” Stevie says, taking a long pull from her beer like she’s won the conversation. It’s her sixth beer, if the bottles piled up at the end of the bar are accurate. David thinks it might be time to take her home. As a friend, obviously. Stevie smiles wickedly at the suggestion and David thinks it’s definitely time to go, thankful he’s only had one beer and a seltzer in the last two hours and is fine to drive. 

“Mmmm, I hear how you are with your friends,” Stevie says, stretching out the word and making it sound dirty. 

“Ew,” David says, grabbing his coat and fishing in the pocket of Stevie’s for her keys. “For the last time, Patrick and I haven’t done anything.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t want to.” Stevie says, getting into the car and fiddling with the radio, already distracted. 

She’s right of course, David thinks as he’s driving them home. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to. 

* * *

July 2, 2015

David has been on plenty of weird dates. Gross dates, awkward dates, uncomfortable dates, dates where he wasn’t sure if it was a date. It was weird that Patrick was being so insistent about taking him out for a birthday dinner, somehow weirder that Stevie was there. David had told her, repeatedly, that it wasn’t weird that he’d brought David a gift (“Because you’re friends, I know,” Stevie said, rolling her eyes). David knows how to behave on bad dates, but he’s flustered now that Stevie’s left, now that he knows that he and Patrick are on what has the definite makings of a good date, sentimental present and all. 

Patrick dressed up for him, for fuck’s sake, in a jacket that looks half decent. He smells amazing too. David wants him, is tired of not letting himself want him, is sick of his own excuses about the business and what if Patrick doesn’t like him back and what if he ruins everything. He lets himself look at Patrick properly, lets himself laugh at his jokes, makes a mental catalogue of all the places on Patrick’s body he wants to kiss, lets himself hope. 

“Well this was a fun night.” David says, as Patrick’s car pulls up to the motel. It’s dark and it feels more intimate than anywhere they’ve been alone together the past few weeks, jolts David’s memory back to another time they were alone, Patrick walking David home in the dark. He wonders if Patrick’s thinking the same thing. 

“I’m really glad I decided to invest in your business, David.” Patrick says. 

“That is a really lovely thing to say.” 

“And I’m so glad you did Patrick, because you’ve really helped turn it into the success it is.”

“Mmmm, a bold claim.”

Patrick’s fingers brush the back of David’s hand. “You’re so sharp with yourself,” he says, like he isn’t too. He’s tracing gentle patterns into David’s skin with his thumb, soothing and incendiary, so much and not enough at the same time. “It’s okay to just take the compliment.” 

There’s a silence for a moment and David thinks carefully about taking what he wants. 

Patrick’s already smiling, soft and so happy when David leans in to kiss him. It’s as good as David imagined, as good as he remembers. Patrick’s more confident now than he was four years ago, kissing David back with an intensity that’s new and wonderful and a little frightening. 

“I missed that,” Patrick says, low and pleased, still holding David’s hand. David wants to kiss him again. 

“I wasn’t sure.” David says, looking down at where their fingers are laced together. Patrick squeezes his hand lightly and David looks up. Patrick’s face is serious, suddenly, and David feels his heart start to race. 

“I’ve wanted you for ages, David. You had to know.”

“I wasn’t sure.” David says again, because it’s true and he didn’t want to presume anything, didn’t want to want more than Patrick was willing to give him. 

Patrick laughs. “So you’re saying I should’ve touched you more then?”

“I think that would get you on some kind of watchlist.” David says, and pulls Patrick in by his jacket to kiss him again, slow and deep. 

Patrick’s eyes are dark when David pulls away, his breathing a little unsteady. 

“So here’s an idea,” he says, stroking the back of David’s hand again. “In the interest of not getting put on any watchlists, what if you come home with me?”

David wants to say yes instantly, can’t quite get the words out. 

“Ray won’t be home,” Patrick says, raising David’s hand to his mouth and kissing it. 

“Yes,” David says, “Yes, like, yesterday. Let’s go.” 

The drive to Ray’s is quick enough, and the trip to Patrick’s bedroom is even quicker. Patrick kisses David as soon as the door is shut against his back, his hands flirting with the hem of David’s sweater like he can’t help himself. 

“Yes” David says, because if there’s ever a time for clear communication, it’s during sex. “Yeah, you can.” He helps Patrick pull his sweater up and off, dropping it onto a chair. From there it’s a dizzying rush, clothes and kisses everywhere. David doesn’t remember the last time he was this turned on, this hard and willing and ready. 

“I thought about doing this with you,” Patrick says, like a confession, when they’re down to bare skin, lying on the bed. David’s a little overwhelmed with the endless possibilities before them. “I’ve thought about doing this with you a lot. You’re so fucking beautiful.”

“Yeah?” David says, greedy for the compliment and for Patrick to continue. After a kiss, of course.

“I thought about what you’d look like naked in my bed. Whether you’d stay over. Whether you’d let me touch you again in the morning. Whether you’d touch me again. Fuck, I’d do anything you wanted if you let me.” He brushes a hand down David’s chest, teasing a nipple, mapping the slope of David’s ribs. He’s fisting his own cock too, like he needs to take the edge off, can’t help himself. 

“What about what you wanted, hmm?” David asks. “Tell me more. What did you want?”

“Your mouth,” Patrick says, instantly. “I’ve jerked off thinking about your mouth, god, dozens of times? I don’t even know. I knew you’d be good at it and I knew it’d be different than—than what I was used to. You’d look so fucking hot with my cock in your pretty mouth. I used to come so fast, thinking about you sucking me down, using your tongue to make it good for me, taking everything I could give you.” 

“Fuck,” David says, and kisses his way down Patrick’s chest and stomach, mouthing at his hip bone and finally taking Patrick in hand. He mouths at the head of Patrick’s cock, moves his hand up and down the shaft in rhythm as he sucks. He thrills a little at the groan Patrick lets out, takes him deeper and deeper until Patrick is pushing at his shoulders. 

“I’m going to come if you don’t stop, and I’m not ready yet.”

David presses a sloppy kiss to Patrick’s hip, slides back up the bed so they’re face to face again. “What else, then?”

“I thought about whether you’d kiss me after, all filthy and tasting like me. Your lips would be all sensitive and pink and I’d kiss you until you made me stop, until you wanted to come.” 

David kisses him, of course, lets Patrick take control of it and fuck his mouth with his tongue, slow and dirty and then soft and teasing until they’re both short of breath. 

“You wanted to make me come?” David asks, eager to keep Patrick talking, spilling his fantasies like he trusts David enough not to give it a second thought. 

“So bad.” 

Patrick reaches for David’s cock, wrapping his hand around him and stroking him, making use of the slick precome David’s already leaking, just listening to Patrick, watching him touch David like it’s some kind of privilege. 

“Like this?” David asks, not caring, happy to come however Patrick wants it. 

“No. I want to fuck you, make you come on my cock.” 

“You thought about it a lot.” David says, not a question. 

“I really did.” Patrick says. He leans in for another kiss, tilts his head obligingly when David moves to kiss his neck and whispers into his ear for Patrick to go get him his bag from the chair. 

David watches Patrick’s face while he opens himself up. He can only handle it because Patrick isn’t meeting his eyes at all, focused solely on where David’s fucking himself open, two fingers sloppy with lube. The stretch is nice and Patrick’s rapt attention is even nicer, but his own fingers aren’t what he needs. 

He tells Patrick as much, tells him that he’s ready, passes him the lube so he can slick up his cock. 

“What do you like?” Patrick asks, making David look at his face and not where he’s stroking lube onto his dick in slow, easy pushes. “I want to make it good for you.”

“Like this, I think?” David flips over onto his hands and knees, rolls his shoulder and arches his back a little. It feels good. He turns his head to look at Patrick, busy lining himself up on his knees behind David. “Is that—”

“It’s excellent,” Patrick says, running his hand down David’s spine, letting his fingers dip into David’s ass and catch on his hole. He keeps a hand on David’s hip and he presses in. David gasps at the feel of it, of being stretched full and lit up inside. “More,” he says, suddenly desperate for Patrick to move. “Fuck me.” 

David loses his mind a little bit when Patrick does, doesn’t remember anything after except how good it felt, how right and how quickly he got shivery all over, the feel of Patrick dropping kisses to his shoulder blades and shushing him occasionally, switching the rhythm of his thrusts until David could be quiet again. Patrick gets a hand on David’s cock eventually, like that’s going to help him be quieter. He’s so close and half blissed-out already, thinks he could fuck Patrick forever maybe and no one else. 

Patrick spreads a hand over the small of David’s back, pressing lightly to tilt David’s hips a little more. It’s a wonderful angle and David tenses up everywhere with the pleasure of it, comes hard and messy all over Patrick’s hand, with Patrick panting in his ear. He’s floating through the aftershocks when Patrick loses it too, his hips losing their rhythm, teeth scraping the back of David’s neck as he gives himself up to him. 

David doesn't know how, but they end up cuddling, David’s head on Patrick’s chest. David feels like he could sleep for a million years. Or at least a few hours, until he’s ready to come again. 

“I’m going to be sore tomorrow,” Patrick says, rubbing at his quads with one hand. 

“ _You’re_ going to be sore?” David says, and lets Patrick kiss him anyways. 

“You try driving next time, see how your thighs feel after doing all the work. 

“I don’t think fucking you would be work,” David says. “I think you’d be easy for it, when we get there. I’m going to blow your mind.”

Patrick’s quiet, so David tacks on, “If that’s something you’d want, of course.” like he should have to begin with and hopes he hasn’t pushed too far. 

“I do,” Patrick says. “Sorry. I got a little lost picturing it.”

“You’re very imaginative,” David says, “10 out of 10, gold star for you.”

Patrick grins at him, carefree and rubs his thumb over David’s lip, filthy. 

“I can see you thinking,” David says, squirming away to pillow his head on Patrick’s chest again. “Stop that.”

Patrick presses a kiss to the top of David’s head instead. 

“Did you ever think we’d end up here?” Patrick asks him. “Just because I recommended you a sandwich?”

“It was a good sandwich. And more to the point, you were adorable and you thought I was extremely attractive so obviously we were meant to be.”

“I was glad you liked it,” Patrick says, playing with David’s hair, an activity he’ll soon learn is only allowed after sex or before bed. “You didn’t seem happy. Like you were flirty and unbelievably handsome and interesting and gave me the best kiss of my life, but I don’t think you were happy and I wanted to change that.”

David doesn't know what to say to that, has to lean up to kiss Patrick instead. 

“It’s stupid, but I feel like I’ve known you forever.” David says. 

“I mean, we kind of have.” Patrick says, settling his arm more firmly around David’s shoulders, grounding. “You probably know me better than anyone.”

It’s an echo of what David been thinking himself, that Patrick maybe knows him better than anyone. It would be terrifying to the him of four years ago, is still a little terrifying now. He listens to the sound of Patrick’s heartbeat and thinks that maybe together they can be brave. 


End file.
